


Stiles gets sick

by hellolife21



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Pack, Established Relationship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-25
Updated: 2012-07-25
Packaged: 2017-11-10 16:35:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/468403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellolife21/pseuds/hellolife21
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles gets the flu</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stiles gets sick

**Author's Note:**

> \- Established Pack  
> \- Established Derek/Stiles  
> \- Future (2yrs or so)
> 
> I wasn't going to post this one, but I figured why the hell not? It's not my best writing, but I hope maybe some of you like it.

The day Stiles returned home from his classes sick was the day that no one in the pack will ever forget. Stiles didn’t get sick very often, and when he did it was usually something simple like the sniffles or a dry cough. Illnesses easily cured with over the counter cold medicine. He kept up a daily regime of drinking a glass of orange juice, a glass of milk, and taking his vitamins that Derek insisted on buying him.  


So when Stiles walked through the door of the house, Derek was rushing at him from the kitchen and backing him against the solid oak front door. Stiles wasn’t sure why the sudden rush to crowd him, but the rest of the pack was hovering around Derek within a four foot range. Everyone except for Jackson that is. Jackson hung back by the sofa and watched with a disinterested expression.

“What’s going on?” Stiles asked.

“Something’s wrong,” Derek stated emotionlessly and he sniffed at Stiles’s neck.

“I dunno what you’re talking about. I feel fine.”

Derek quirked an eyebrow skeptically. “You don’t feel tired? No appetite? Dizzy?”

Stiles shrugged. “I haven’t been hungry, but that doesn’t mean I’m ill or something.” He did feel a bit dizzy earlier during his animal health studies class, but it was probably just because he hadn’t eaten. 

“You smell like sickness,” Derek grumbled.

“And you look paler than usual,” Erica piped in, long finger pointing at his face and motioning up and down his body. “Definitely much paler, right, Isaac?” Isaac nodded, head tilted. As if the head tilt would help him decipher the strange smell Derek labeled as ‘sickness’.

“Really, I’m fine. I just need to lay down for a little bit. I’m tired,” Stiles said nonchalantly, pushing past Derek and parting the circle of wolves. Scott stopped him with a hand on his shoulder and gave him a look that spoke the words of ‘take it easy’.

Stiles passed the stairs where Boyd had moved to block Allison and Lydia from coming down. He hurried to his room, not wanting to deal with weird pack shenanigans.

  


Derek turned and looked at Scott and said, “Get the bleach and some towels. Clean anything he’s touched since yesterday.”

“Why?” Scott asked.

“Because I said so, and also the fact that Stiles has the flu.”

Isaac and Erica shivered visibly. They might have been werewolves for the past two years but they did still remember what the stomach flu was like. 

“How am I supposed to know what Stiles has touched?” Scott asked looking around the front room. There was so much stuff that Stiles could have and probably did touch within the last 24 hours.

Derek shook his head. “Wash everyone’s bedding, all the door knobs, handles, dishes, the table tops, every surface someone might touch. I’m not dealing with more than one person with the stomach flu.”

“But we can’t even get sick, Derek,” Jackson chipped in from his place on the couch. 

Derek shot Jackson a nasty glare. “Not everyone in the pack is a wolf, remember?”

Jackson rolled his eyes and kept his mouth shut.

“Erica, Isaac, help Scott clean. Jackson, I need you to run to the store for ginger ale and ice chips.”

Erica and Isaac went with Scott up to their rooms to change into clothes they didn’t mind cleaning in. Jackson looked skeptically at Derek. “You want me to buy ice chips?” he asked.

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” Derek glared. 

Jackson snorted and walked past Derek out the front door. 

  


Derek found Boyd at the top stairs holding Allison and Lydia off from coming down. “Stiles has the stomach flu. Don’t touch anything and wash your hands. I will not have you two getting sick as well,” Derek called up the stairs then continued on to his room.

Stiles laid on the bed in his underwear. His clothes laid in a haphazard trail from the door to the bed. He was frowning at the ceiling when Derek approached the bed. 

“I’m hot but I’m cold,” Stiles said angrily.

“You’re sick.”

“I’m not sick.”

“Yes, you are. And I’m pretty sure it’s the stomach flu.”

Stiles kicked the sheet down and huffed. “If I had the stomach flu, I’d be throwing up. Am I throwing up? No.”

Derek held his tongue and turned to leave the room. “You will be soon enough,” he muttered as he closed the bedroom door.

  


Just like Derek said, soon enough, came in the form of the next morning. It was the horrid retching noise that startled all of the werewolves first. It was just after a late breakfast, which was Mcdonalds since Stiles was too ill to cook, or at least direct cooking and Mcdonalds was the cheapest.

Isaac covered his ears and glared in the direction of Stiles and Derek’s room. “What was that!?” he asked just as the noise echoed throughout the house and was picked up by the wolves super hearing. 

“It’s Stiles, he’s probably throwing up,” Erica mumbled, her own ears covered at well. 

Boyd got up from the couch and went to find Derek outside. He knew that Derek was probably already on his way, but in the off chance he wasn’t Boyd was going to get him. 

“Should one of us check up on him?” Scott asked, eyeing the hallway to the bedroom warily. You would think that since Scott is Stiles’s best friend, he would be running in there to help. But no, Scott didn’t want to see what was coming out of Stiles, or where it was going because he knew there wasn’t a trash can or a bathroom attached to the bedroom.

“I’m not going to do it,” Jackson said, eyes trained on the video game he was playing. Jackson didn’t seem to even care that Stiles was ill, let alone puking his guts out. Jackson never seemed to care too much about anyone other than Lydia, which even then didn’t seem like much. The sex must be mind blowing if Lydia kept sticking around. That or Jackson was secretly super nice to her and only her.

“Make him stop! Someone please!” Isaac whined, knees pulled up to his chest and ear covered. The noise was making him feel sick, but his werewolf body wouldn’t let him throw up. So Isaac was stuck in this awkward sickening limbo and the noise wasn’t helping, and he could swear Stiles was getting louder.

Erica stood up to go help Stiles when Derek came running through the front door, knocking Erica aside in the process. Boyd pulled her back up and they both stared at Derek bursting into the bedroom and slamming the door closed. 

Allison and Lydia clamored down the stairs to see what all the slamming and commotion was about. From the upstairs their human ear couldn’t detect Stiles’s retching, but they could hear it crystal clear from the bottom of the stairs. 

“You should probably go back upstairs before Derek flips shit,” Boyd said.

Lydia was already on her way up, holding her stomach and beckoning for Allison to follow her. 

  


“Stiles, jesus christ, you couldn’t have made it to the bathroom across the hall?” Derek asked, covering his nose at the smell of Stiles’s stomach contents. It didn’t help, the smell was everywhere and his senses were just too heightened. The one time in his life he wish he didn’t have heightened everything.

“My bad,” Stiles rasped. His body was shaking violently and his stomach was doing a constant spasm-y jerk. “Next time I’ll try to drag myself in there.”

Derek stepped passed the vile mess on the floor and scooped Stiles up to take him to the bathroom. 

“Why didn’t,” Stiles pauses to make horrible throaty choking noises. “Why did no one come earlier?” 

“I don’t know,” Derek said through gritted teeth, eyes cutting to the pack where they stood at the end of the hall, watching Derek carry Stiles into the bathroom and kick the door shut. Derek positioned Stiles in front of the toilet and Stiles dry heaved into the bowl, all of his stomach contents already gone.

“Do you need us to help with anything?” Erica’s voice floated through the door.

“Now you’re going to help,” Derek muttered. He opened the door, and made sure he looked thoroughly pissed and disappointed in his pack members. “Someone clean up the mess in the bedroom.”

Stiles’s dry heaving continued and Derek could see Isaac looked the most pained out of the entire group. As if he were watching someone he loved die. Stiles was most certainly not dying, although if they didn’t start dispensing liquid soon he could become dehydrated.

“Derek, kill me, please,” Stiles begged. His eyes were red and swollen, tears streaming down his face. Much of  his cheeks were bright red with broken blood vessels and snot ran from his nose. Well, Derek hoped it was snot.

Derek crouched beside Stiles and tried to rub his back, but he just slumped onto the side of the tub. Stiles was full on crying, holding his stomach and shaking his head. It was the most heartbreaking thing Derek had witnessed in a very long time, and yet again, there was nothing he could do about it. 

“Please, just kill me, it hurts, my stomach hurts. I don’t want to throw up anymore. I’m so tired, just kill me, Derek. Rip my throat out, I don’t care.” 

Derek picked Stiles up and placed him in the tub. He grabbed the waistband of his boxer briefs and attempted to pull them off, but Stiles was making it very difficult without standing himself up. “Stand up for a second, Stiles,” Derek grunted, trying to hold the younger man up with his arm and shoulder, while trying to remove his underwear.

“I can’t,” Stiles cried, face pushed into Derek’s shoulder. “I’m so tired, my body hurts so bad. Just bite me or something. I don’t care, I don’t care.” 

“I’m not biting you. We discussed that already and you aren’t dying. You just think you’re dying. Help me get these boxers off.”

“I can’t,” Stiles whined.

Derek growled and grabbed the cloth and pulled harshly, ripping the material from Stiles’s body and dropping it outside the tub. He turned the water on warm and it heated up quickly. Sitting stiles down, Derek lathered up a wash rag from the counter and scrubbed Stiles as clean as possible while holding him up again.

Wrapped in a towel, Stiles was carried back into the bedroom and put on the bed. The puddle of sick was long gone and replaced with a nicer flowery scent and Derek did not want to know where that came from. Derek managed to get Stiles into a pair of sweatpants and then tucked back into bed. 

“What’s going on?” Stiles asked, grabbing Derek’s arm and pulling him back as he turned to leave the room for a glass of water.

“You’re sick, Stiles.”

“I’m cold, I’m really cold,” Stiles whined, body visibly shaking. 

Derek put his hand to Stiles’s head and he was burning up. The shaking wasn’t from the ‘cold’ it was from Stiles’s abused stomach muscles attempting to settle themselves down. “I’ll be right back with some stuff. Stay here.”

Stiles managed a sharp ‘ha!’ and Derek left the room. As if he was going to waltz out of the house any time soon.

  


Isaac sat curled up on the couch in the living area when Derek went through on his way to the kitchen. He called after Derek, “Is he done throwing up?”

“Yeah,” Derek answered, wetting a dish rag and ringing the excess water out.

“Jackson and Boyd left, they said they couldn’t be in the house anymore.”

Derek growled and looked around the freezer for the ice chips Jackson was supposed to buy. “Isaac, do you know where the ice chips are?” Derek called.

Isaac joined him in the kitchen and said, “Jackson forgot them in his car and they melted.”

“And he didn’t get more?” Derek asked through gritted teeth.

Isaac shook his head. “You know how he is sometimes.”

“Never should have turned that little shit, he gets on my last nerve far too often. Alright, I’ll go get some more ice chips, you go stay with Stiles.”

“What!?” Isaac cried, fumbling to catch the wet rag Derek threw at him. “What do I do?”

“Put that on his forehead, and lay down with him. He’ll complain he’s cold, it’s the fever, let him sleep next to you or something. The fever should break soon now that he’s finished throwing up his guts. I’ll be back.”

  


Isaac pushed open the door to Stiles and Derek’s room and closed it quietly. Stiles opened his eyes and furrowed his brow. He was expecting Derek, not Isaac. 

“Derek had to go get ice chips, I’m staying with you.”

“Oh,” Stiles mouthed.

Isaac crawled onto the bed and placed the cold rag on Stiles’s forehead. Stiles hissed and then groaned at the contact. His eyes rolled back and he tossed his head back and forth gently, wanting to sleep, but not able to. 

Isaac laid down beside Stiles and Stiles used what little energy he had left to turn on his side and cling to Isaac. “You’re really warm.”

“Derek said you would be cold,” Isaac said, pulling Stiles closer so he wouldn’t have to strain himself.

“I love you guys, you know,” Stiles whispered, his voice cracking slightly. “You’re like my family.”

“That’s why we call you Mom.”

Stiles looked confused for a moment because, A.) he was not a female or a mother, and B.) the other members of the pack were calling him Mom when he wasn’t around, which was sort of weird. “What?” he asked after a pause.

“Nothing,” Isaac said quickly. He wasn’t supposed to tell Stiles that they called him Mom. It was an ongoing joke that was only mentioned between the younger wolves. 

“You call me Mom?” 

“Go to sleep.” 

“No, no,” Stiles weakly attempted to push Isaac away and scowled at him. His scowl looked less threatening than it would usually because he didn’t have the energy to keep his face in any sort of expression other than blank or dead. Isaac had to keep himself from laughing at the kicked puppy expression that Stiles’s face was making in attempts to scowl.

Much to Isaac’s relief, Derek opened the door holding a bowl full of ice chips and a towel. He jerked his head toward the door and Isaac scrambled out of the room. “I’m going to feed you ice chips and hopefully you’ll keep them down,” Derek said, sitting on the edge of the bed and lifting a piece of ice to Stiles’s mouth.

Stiles took the ice and swallowed it. His throat was sore and raw, and the ice felt great going down. “Did you know they call me Mom?”

“What?” Derek asked, pushing another ice between Stiles’s lips.

“The pack, they call me Mom when I’m not around.”

“So?”

“So, I’m not a girl.”

Derek snorted and flipped the rag on Stiles’s head over to the cool side. “You are like a mom though.”

“Now you’re agreeing with them?” Stiles looked defeated.

“You do cook for us, and you clean and you are my mate which makes you like second in command.”

“Really?” Stiles croaked, his voice becoming more and more strained because of his sore throat.

Derek smiled softly and push more ice into Stiles’s mouth. “Why do you think the pack does anything you tell them too? They have to, or they know I’ll find out.”

“But-”

“Stop talking.”

“But-”

Derek gave Stiles a stern look and Stiles shut up. 

  


Six hours later, including a four hour nap, and Stiles was feeling much better. Stiles was alone in his bedroom and he was covered in sweat from when his fever broke. He pushed back the blankets and went for the door to go and shower. Jackson tumbled backwards when Stiles opened the door and scrambled off the floor.

“Why are you sleeping outside my door?” 

Jackson looked around nervously. “I, well, you, I kind of felt bad.”

“For what?” 

“I was being a dick earlier while you were sick.”

“But you’re usually always a dick.”

Jackson scowled and crossed his arms. “Shut up, Stilinski. He rolled his eyes and walked away, leaving Stiles to go clean off the layer of sweat and illness clinging to his body.

  


Erica and Isaac hugged Stiles the moment he entered the living room, freshly showered and feeling much better.    


“They thought you were dying,” Boyd said, preoccupied with the TV and not really paying attention to the hugfest going on.

Scott pushed Isaac and Erica away and gave Stiles a quick hug. “Good to see you made it with all your organs intact.”

“I hope they are, my stomach still hurts a little,” Stiles joked, holding a hand over his stomach.

“Not funny,” Derek grumbled, pulling Stiles to his chest and kissing the side of his head. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“I wouldn’t be if you hadn’t taken care of me.”

“It’s my job.” Derek pulled away and gave Stiles a chaste kiss just before he was pulled away by Isaac and Erica and dragged to the kitchen to help them cook dinner. 

 


End file.
